Chapter Text
Snow drifts down in a slow, heavy haze of white, obscuring the void-dark sky and the city lights of an early night. Ui's boots crunch through the thick, wet layer already piling up in the streets. Beside him, Hairu giggles and sticks her tongue out, trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. A clump of wet snow tumbles from an awning instead, smacking onto her tongue. Hairu squeals and shakes her head, spitting out snow.
"Cold! Bleh, my mouth feels weird!"
"You're the one who had your tongue out in the snow," Ui replies.
His boot slides and he topples sideways. Strong arms wrap around his waist, keeping him on his feet. Hairu presses her cheek against his. Sirens scream in the distance, emergency vehicles going somewhere. Probably a traffic accident, with this snow, Ui muses, although he can't quite shake a trickle of dread down his back.
Ui focuses on putting one foot in front of the other as the snow on the ground gets thicker. Hairu jumps into the snowdrift piled up against a concrete planter, laughing and kicking up sprays of glittering white, hands tucked behind her back. She flashes Ui a devious grin.
Oh no.
The snowball hits him in the chest with a wet smack. He bends down and scoops up snow, and throws a hastily-made snowball back. It scatters as it hits, with clumps of melting white across her chest and up onto her face. He huffs out a laugh despite himself. They trade snowballs as they slowly make their way down the block, laughing, and he can't bring himself to care about the cold wet trickle under the collar of his coat.
"Aren't you two grown adults?" calls a scowling old woman crossing from a shop to her car.
Ui grimaces. Is that what I used to sound like? Hairu really has been good for me. Hairu sticks her tongue out in response.
"Really, Hairu?"
"What? She's the one who decided to yell rude things at us," Hairu says, pouting.
Once upon a time, Ui would've grumbled on about Hairu not respecting her elders. He's spent the last several years dealing with the consequences of his elders treating those who come after them as disposable. It's changed his opinion on respecting elders who don't give respect. He shoots a dirty look at the old woman's car as she drives off.
The snow is letting up slightly as they walk onward.
As they wait for a traffic light, Hairu stands on tiptoes to press her cheek against his again. The consequences of their little snowball fight are getting bothersome, the cold damp seeping through his winter clothes is getting harder to ignore in the name of good fun. From the way Hairu takes a glove off and slips her hand into Ui's glove to hold hands, she's starting to feel the cold herself.
Sirens howl behind them, and a fire truck roars past, flashing lights lighting up the snow red, making Ui squint in the glare. There's a noticeable scent of burning in the air, now, even to his entirely human nose. The dread clenching its way down his back returns in full force. It only builds as they approach the apartment they share.
The next set of shivers has nothing to do with the cold, or damp clothes. In the glove they're sharing, Hairu squeezes his hand. Hairu turns to Ui, the look on her face recalling the very first time she told him she was pregnant.
A cold shock hits him like a body blow - Kosei and Bubbles. Horrible visions of third-degree burns and scorched-black fur flicker in his mind's eye. He looks back at her, and he can feel his brows settling low, his mouth pulling into a grim line. Hairu pulls him forward as she goes from walking to a long, loping run.
They turn the last corner before their apartment block.
Fire trucks surround the whole building. Smoke pours up from one end, lit from below with hellish red-orange. Paramedics hurry back and forth, taking the people firefighters pull from the blaze. Ui is suddenly glad the weather has been thick with snow lately - he hates to think how quickly this could have spread if the winter had been dry.
He feels terrible as the thought forms, but all the same, it hits him - at least our apartment is at the other end of the building.
He approaches someone, anyone on the scene who looks like they know what they're doing, desperation making him sweat. A firefighter waves him towards the paramedics. He stops when he hears a very familiar call from the stone planter box behind him.
"Mama! Papa!" shouts Kosei, voice thick from crying.
Hairu runs past Ui, wrapping her arms around their son, who has tear tracks down his face, eyes black and red, pink hair disheveled, shock blanket over his shoulders. A very upset yowl sounds from the bundle of sweatshirts he holds, that can only be their cat, Bubbles. As Ui crouches in the snow, Kosei reaches down to pat the wrapped up cat.
"I know, Bubbles, it looks bad, it sounds bad, it smells bad. But we're not hurt, m'kay," Kosei says, softly and despite his own tears.
Ui squeezes himself into the family huddle beside Hairu, wrapping all of them in his arms.
"We're here, you're safe now," Ui says, and he can't help his voice cracking.
"We're just glad you're okay," says Hairu, not hiding the tremor in her voice.
“You're back, you're back, I'm,” Kosei takes a shuddering breath, “I'm so happy you're back.”
They stay like that for what could be ten seconds or forever. Ui feels the relief pouring through him like a flood. His breath hitches, his eyes burn. He can feel Hairu shaking against his arm, shaking that rises to a sudden peak and then fades, slowly, to harsh breathing.
A cold realization washes over him, fear opening another abyss beneath his feet just when he felt like he had found solid ground. He looks Hairu in the eyes, sees the way her bottom eyelids bunch up with tightly-coiled worry, and knows she's had the same thought.
Where are we going to stay tonight? I could afford a hotel, of course, but that's not a long-term solution.
It's Kosei who voices what they're thinking.
“Where are we going for tonight? They're not going to let us stay in a burnt, soggy building.”
Ui and Hairu look at each other.
“We'll figure it out, Melon Bun,” Hairu says.
Kosei snorts at the old nickname. Hairu sits on the low wall of the planter box, hands on her stomach. Ui starts in on their problem.
“Let me think out loud... Hirako is out of the question, he's still trying to find homes for some people from the Garden. Itou's apartment isn't big enough for all of us--”
“--A lot of former CCG people are too uncomfortable to open their door to us anyways,” cuts in Hairu.
“The Quinx don't have room right now, either, the last snowstorm damaged the chateau,” starts Ui.
“Um,” Kosei interrupts, “Dunno if they have room, but at least Yoshimi-chan's place is close.”
“Yoshimi- Oh, Hinami and Ayato,” Hairu muses, tilting her head at Ui.
“Let me make a few calls,” says Ui, fumbling in his pockets with glove-clumsy hands.
Hinami and Ayato's apartment is warm, and a faint metallic scent lingers on the back of Ui's tongue. A small, dark figure darts past him as he takes his boots off the genkan. Hairu plucks the still-bundled Bubbles from Kosei's arms, right before Ayato and Hinami's daughter collides with him in a tackle-hug. Kosei stumbles, but is lifted a few centimeters off the ground by a grinning Yoshimi.
There's an awkward pause as she puts him down.
“You smell like smoke,” says Yoshimi, pulling back.
“Yoshimi, give our guests room to breathe, and take their wet coats off,” chides Hinami, whose nose wrinkles despite her welcoming smile.
“Actually, is the shower free?” asks Hairu, “we'd like to warm up, and we probably do smell like smoke.”
“Of course,” says Hinami, “Come on in. I put towels out because I thought you guys would need to get warm and clean.”
Hinami practically herds them towards the bathroom. It's the kind of apartment where the laundry room is right next to it, and they pass three sets of folded clothes laid out on top of the dryer. Warmth – mixed with tar and debris – wells up in Ui's chest.
“Just dump your clothes in the basket over there,” Hinami gestures, “I'll give you some privacy.”
Hinami blinks at Hairu still holding the Bubbles bundle. Hairu opens her mouth to say something, but Kosei gets there first.
“She likes baths, that's why we called her Bubbles,” Kosei says, shrugging.
Hinami ducks out. Ui catches the jingle of a ringtone, and Hinami's indistinct voice. Hairu looks to Ui, and then to Kosei.
“Take turns, or go in as a family?”
“I think I'd like you to wash my hair,” admits Ui, and Hairu laughs, shucking her damp sweater.
“I know the feeling. How 'bout you, kiddo?”
“...'m thinkin... want Mama to scrub my back,” Kosei mumbles, muffled by the hoodie he's wriggling over his head.
“Family it is, then,” Hairu says, brightly.
The warm water is heavenly. Ui's muscles relax and his fingers un-cramp as he warms up, while gentle, unscented soap scrubs away the itchy sweat of a stressful night. Hairu hums something off-key as she works shampoo – also unscented, and oddly familiar – into her hair and draws her fingers through it. Isn't that an advertising jingle for the ramen brand she liked while pregnant with Kosei?
The obnoxious ramen jingle suddenly sounds like an angelic choir to Ui's ears.
Hairu sets aside the shampoo and gets to scrubbing Kosei's back, which occasionally ripples in response to the scrubbing. Bubbles finally squirms free of the sweatshirts and looks around, scenting the air, shrinking back against the wall of the bathroom. Ui watches the cat out of the corner of his eye as he lathers soap over his legs. Bubbles goes to lick her fur, but recoils with a breathy not-quite-hiss. Ui realizes with a moment of clarity that the shampoo is oddly familiar because it's a pet-safe brand, one they bathe Bubbles with.
As Ui lifts the shower hose to rinse off his skin and wet his hair, Bubbles bats at the stream of water. That settles it, I'm the one washing the cat. He rubs his free hand against Bubbles' jaw, then holds her loosely while rinsing her fur. Bubbles makes a little mrr and wriggles a bit, but is otherwise content to let Ui work the shampoo into her fur, until Kosei holds out a hand for it.
Ui startles as a soft, warm weight presses against his back, and an equally soft cloth scrubs gently down the back of his neck. Bubbles takes the opportunity to squirm towards drier ground.
“Pass the shampoo, kiddo?”
A hummed affirmative, to the same tune Hairu was humming earlier.
There's movement against his back, and then the warm weight of a dollop of shampoo on top of his head. Hairu's fingers work through his hair, relaxing muscles he didn't even know were tense. It occurs to him that even though they're not doing anything sexual, him and Hairu are being decidedly intimate - and Ui feels decidedly sappy. He glances over to Kosei – he knows his son isn't one of those kids who recoils at the idea of their parents' relationship - he's even walked in on us, and after an apology for interrupting, didn't seem to care - but Ui needs his peace of mind.
Kosei is toweling himself dry using his kagune as hands, a towel-covered Bubbles in his actual hands, looking back at Ui with a soft smile.
The kotatsu is warm and the borrowed clothes are soft, Ui and Hairu and Kosei, and even Bubbles, are clean and comfortable and safe.
The washing machine rumbles from the other room. Ayato nods and waves as he disappears in the direction of the bathroom himself, snow still settled in the folds of his pants. Hinami disappears into their galley kitchen with a bag that smells warmly of takeout. Yoshimi appears to be trying to teach Kosei to juggle hacky-sacks.
Something new and delicate and important bubbles up inside Ui, and his mind drifts.
Even with my CCG comrades, it was never like this. Camaraderie, yes, but under Arima's cold, still direction, or Hirako's professionalism and careful, quiet support. He thinks of rare, awkward conversations, glimpses into how ghouls usually operated, of Eyepatch and Serpent and White Rabbit, behind their masks. Conversations that always felt like too-personal snapshots, where glimpses into the CCG's cafeteria jokes or office politics seemed like a poor trade.
Ayato is back, so quickly it feels surreal after how long Ui's family bathtime felt like it took, clean and in casual clothes, damp hair sticking out at all angles. Hinami nods him towards the kitchen. Ui watches Hinami study Hairu, including her hands-on-tummy posture.
“Do you need to eat like you did when you were, y'know, with us?”
“Yeah, I need the Hotel Aogiri Diet again,” says Hairu, in a tone that could be a joke, if Ui closed his ears to the truth.
He nearly chokes on air. There's a loud snort and a hastily-muffled swear from the kitchen. Both Kosei and Yoshimi are looking from Hairu to Hinami and back, with rapt attention. Hinami smiles and laughs, a bit wryly.
“I hope you don't need me to tell gruesome stories to get the meat down, our kids are here.”
“Nope, I can handle organs with my takeout.”
“Right, here's Plan B,” comes Ayato's voice from the kitchen.
Ui practically feels the blood drain from his face. He takes a deep breath. He knows what Hairu has to eat to have a healthy pregnancy. He's been here before. He's watched her cry into a plate of sausages, had the very same pair of ghouls across the table now, explain to him that bone bread is a thing. His own son has eaten dark red jello with eyes in it in front of him.
So why does it still make me feel wretched?
Ayato reappears with heaping plates. On the plate he gives to Hairu, a thick reddish-brown lump in dark red sauce, still steaming, rests on an innocuous bed of fried rice and vegetables. Kosei gets a large bowl of meat chunks in the same rich red sauce as Hairu's... steaming organ... with sticks of puffy yellowish bread. Bread Ui recognizes, because it's what Hairu brings home for Kosei.
Ui gets a plate with a double helping of lightly-breaded fish atop the rice and vegetables.
He can't help but notice that he and Hairu are the only ones who don't wrinkle their noses a bit at the scent of the takeout. Yoshimi in particular glares at the grassy-smelling asparagus like it personally insulted her mother.
Ayato, Hinami and Yoshimi get the same bowls of steaming stew and creamy-yellow bone bread. Ui takes one more deep breath and takes a spoonful of fried rice. The tightness in his chest uncoils a bit, and the next spoonful is eager instead of tentative. The rice is filling, the vegetables are tender, the fish is delicious.
Ayato is looking at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly, head tilted a little bit. Kosei looks back and forth between them.
”Is he...” Ayato's gaze locks back to Ui's face, “Are you gonna be okay?”
He's strangely floored. It hits him, in this moment, how absurd his own surprise is – he's a former top CCG investigator, sitting at a table with ghouls, eating takeout while they eat meat, and he's probably pasty enough to look like death warmed over. That's the point, though – I'm here and I'm eating with you guys.
“I'll be fine,” he says, and means it.
“It's okay,” says Kosei, putting one arm around Ui's waist, “Papa always looks like that because ghoul food freaks him out, but he knows the secret to being brave,” Hairu joins in, “do it scared,” they finish together.
Ui can't help but turn from white to pink, and Ayato snorts. Hinami laughs softy. Yoshimi raises a tall glass of what's obviously blood and clinks it against Kosei's, and both of them chug. The strange tension at the table deflates. Everyone laughs, even Ui, and tomorrow's worries suddenly feel small and far away.